


Mentor

by EmilyweepsforPilfrey



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Catching Fire AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyweepsforPilfrey/pseuds/EmilyweepsforPilfrey
Summary: This year, for the 75th Hunger Games, the tributes will be reaped from both the usual pool of potential tributes and the victors– one tribute, one victor– in recognition of the "special" relationship between a mentor and their tribute.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plan was always to completely finish this story before posting it, but it's been sitting around unfinished for two years now and I've decided to post it in the hope that someone will enjoy it an give me a reason to finish it. I might need to come back and tweak a few things in earlier chapters, but I will try to avoid that where possible and let you know when I do. I've got about 10k words (8 and a half chapters) done so far and probably twice as much left to write. Comments are always appreciated as I'd really like to get the motivation to finish this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

_“Please, Haymitch._ _Make me feel something again.”_

...

“This year, for the 75th Hunger Games, the tributes will be reaped from both the usual pool of potential tributes and the victors– one tribute, one victor– in recognition of the _special_ relationship between a mentor and their tribute. In addition to this, there will be no volunteering...”

Katniss’s heart thuds in her chest. President Snow’s words trail off as her hearing becomes fuzzy.

_No. No. No._

She gets to her feet clumsily. It’s a struggle, as if she’s fighting against some underwater current. She doesn’t hear her mother and Prim’s calls. There is only the need to escape, to get out of this tunnel she feels she’s in.

She stumbles out the door.

She runs.

She doesn’t stop until her lungs are burning for air and she thinks her legs might collapse. She falls to the ground, the chill of the snow seeping through her pants, and hugs her knees to her chest. The snow is nothing compared to the cold she feels inside. She tightens her grip on her wrists, pulling her knees in closer as if to mould herself into a ball, shrinking smaller until she implodes. There’s moisture in the corners of her eyes and her breath comes out in uneven, shaky gasps. She holds herself tighter, because if she can do this, if she can physically hold her body together, then maybe she can get through the Quarter Quell.

 That’s when it hits her. There’s a one in three chance that she’s going back into the arena. There’s a two in three chance that it will be someone she cares about. Either way, she loses. The chances of surviving the games once are slim. The chances of surviving a second time seem even slimmer. The odds are never in her favour.

Suddenly she feels alone. The night is dark and silent, the moon trapped behind the clouds. The cold seems to hit her all at once, like slamming suddenly into an icy wall that swallows her whole. She shivers, but she suspects it’s not entirely due to the cold.

Somehow she manages to find the energy to climb to her feet and walk back to the Victor’s Village. It’s a long walk home. However it’s not her doorstep that she turns up on - she doesn’t have the energy to reassure her mother and Prim that everything will be okay. Instead, she finds herself outside Haymitch’s front door. It’s not surprising really, given what’s happened over the past few months. She manages to knock twice before she collapses into his arms as he opens the door.

Haymitch swears under his breath, his words slightly slurred, as he helps her inside and shuts the door. He’s drunk. She can smell it on him. As if the half empty bottle in his hand isn’t a giveaway. He’s drunk, but he’s not nearly drunk enough considering the circumstances. She has to grant him that.

Her teeth chatter, shivers shaking her body. For a moment she feels guilty about coming here and adding an extra burden to Haymitch’s mind. He doesn’t need to worry about her too. He’s got enough to worry about already. They both do.

He helps her down onto the couch and she clutches at the blanket that’s draped over the back, pulling it towards her. It doesn’t cover her body, but she needs to do something to ease the chill.

“I’m alright,” she wants to say.

“Don’t worry about me,” she means.

But she’s too cold to get the words out.

Haymitch swears again as he walks out of the room. There are a few bangs and crashes and then he walks back over to Katniss holding a pair of sweatpants, thick socks and a woollen jumper.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” she thinks she hears him say.

She nods anyway.

Standing up gingerly, Katniss peels her off damp clothes and lets them fall to the floor. She has no hesitations changing in front of Haymitch. They’re past the point where she would protest out of modesty. Standing in only her bra and underwear, she unfolds the large jumper, turning it a couple of times until she has it the right way. Haymitch’s eyes flick up and down her body briefly before he takes a swig from the bottle he grips in his hand.

Katniss pulls the drawstring on the pants tight, ignoring the way her hip bones protrude, and moves to sit next to Haymitch on the couch. Her body automatically slumps against his side, seeking out his body heat, and she pulls the blanket back over them. He passes the bottle to her out of habit. Any qualms he has about her drinking have long since been resolved. He figures she needs it about as much as he does right now.

Katniss wonders why he was so quick to answer the door. He must have been expecting her, she concludes. He was waiting for her. The thought warms her heart.

They stay there as time passes, passing the bottle back and forth until it’s empty and joins the other empty bottles on the floor. There’s another bottle and another after that, but it’s not nearly enough to ease their worries.  They sit in silence, alternating between dozing off into a troubled light sleep and worrying about the impending Quarter Quell. They both know that there’s nothing they can say that will help. It’s shit either way.

Sometime after daybreak, there’s a knock at the door. Haymitch grumbles and gets to his feet slowly. His footsteps are heavy and sluggish as he walks to the door. Katniss takes the opportunity to stretch her sore muscles, the blanket slipping off her as she does.  She needs to stop spending nights on Haymitch’s couch.

“I see you’ve come to join the party,” she hears Haymitch sarcastically drawl from the door.

There are light footsteps and the sound of the door shutting, then she looks up to see Peeta standing in the doorway to the living room. He looks clean, tidy and well put together, the exact opposite of how Katniss feels, but she can see faint dark circles under his eyes and unease on his features. If he notices that she’s wearing Haymitch’s clothes, he doesn’t mention it.

Haymitch gestures that Peeta should take a seat and watches the young boy sit down in an armchair before he resumes his own place next to Katniss. Haymitch sits further away this time. They do not touch. Katniss avoids Peeta’s searching gaze. She knows he just wants to know that she’s okay. She can’t tell him that. She won’t look at Haymitch either. She wonders if she’s the only one feeling the awkwardness that seems to have settled over them.

“So,” Peeta finally says, breaking the silence. “It’s one of us.”

He pauses for a moment, rubs his hands over his face. “Why? Why us? We’re victors. We’re supposed to be exempt from this.”

“Their game. Their rules,” Haymitch replies dryly. “They want to make a point, quash a rebellion. Obviously, they weren’t so convinced by your acting on the Victory Tour.”

Katniss refuses to look at Peeta, because she knows he wasn’t acting. It is her. She failed. She couldn’t convince the districts that she was in love with this boy. She couldn’t convince President Snow. It is because of her that one of them will be going back in the arena.

“It’s me,” Katniss speaks up suddenly, glancing up from her lap. “It’s me. I’m the one who’s going to get reaped.”

A glance to her side shows her that Haymitch doesn’t look surprised; he’d already thought of this. Peeta, on the other hand, wasn’t so quick to catch on.

“You don’t know that, Katniss,” he reassures her. “You’ve got the same chance of being picked as Haymitch and me.”

“It’s rigged, it’s all rigged,” Haymitch argues. “If they can rig the theme of the Quell, they can rig the reaping.”

But Katniss isn’t paying attention, struck by the inevitability of going back. She looks down at her knees, mumbling under her breath. “Oh, God, it’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.”

“I’ll volunteer for you,” Peeta says boldly. Katniss’s heart sinks.

“I can’t ask you to –“ she starts before getting cut off by Haymitch’s booming voice.

“Didn’t you two listen to the announcement?” he interrupts loudly. “No volunteering. Snow’s going to get who he wants in the games, whoever that may be.”

Katniss falls silent, looking down at her hands.

 “Then we win,” Peeta announces ardently. “Whoever ends up in there. There’s going to be one of us in there and two of us outside mentoring. We do what we can to help the person in the arena, whoever it is. We’ve all beaten the games before and we can do it again.”

“We win,” Katniss repeats meekly, though she can’t match Peeta’s enthusiasm.

Haymitch nods curtly in agreement. His hand itches for a bottle. He stands. Fuck this, he’s getting a drink.   

Now that they’re alone, Katniss can tell Peeta wants to talk to her. She avoids his gaze, wishing that Haymitch was still there as a buffer. If it was awkward when he was there, it’s a hundred times worse without him, especially after what Peeta has just offered to do.

Peeta stands up to leave. He had never found the same appeal in Haymitch’s dark and dingy house that Katniss had.

“Katniss, are you coming?” he asks. She shakes her head. She receives a crestfallen nod in reply and watches as Peeta walks out the door without another word. She’s too harsh on him, she knows.

Haymitch returns moments later, a glass in each hand and a bottle tucked under his arm – it’s a little early to be going straight to drinking from the bottle. Katniss takes the glass he offers her and downs it is one go. She doesn’t feel the burn anymore. She’s numb inside.

“He really loves you,” Haymitch says, a touch of spite in his words. “He’s ready to die for you.”

“Shut up, Haymitch,” Katniss replies, taking the bottle from him and pouring herself another glass.

He doesn’t say that she doesn’t deserve the boy, but she knows it all the same.

“I wish he didn’t love me,” Katniss announces after a moment. “It just creates too many expectations, too much debt.”

Haymitch remains silent at her revelation. For that, she’s grateful.  Haymitch always knows what she needs.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reaping.

_The months after the announcement of the 3 rd Quarter Quell are tense, to say the least. Haymitch drinks. Katniss drinks. Peeta... To be honest, Katniss doesn’t know what Peeta does - they don’t see each other much when the cameras aren’t around. She spends a lot of time with Haymitch. Before the announcement, Katniss had spent her days with her family or out hunting for food. She spent insomnia filled nights with Haymitch and a bottle, drinking away their shared pain at the injustices of the Capitol. After the announcement, she spends her days at Haymitch’s too. She stops home occasionally, makes sure there is enough food in the house and tells her mother she is going to see Peeta. If Peeta asks, she says she is needed at home. Haymitch never asks, he just accepts her presence as a constant. _

…

Katniss stands on stage at the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games.  Haymitch stands to her left, fingers just out of reach. Peeta is on her right. Effie stands in front of them addressing the crowd, but Katniss isn’t listening. Instead, she waits for the moment when she will hear her name. She is resigned to her fate, but the waiting is torture.

The sound of Effie’s high pitched throat clearing brings Katniss back to the present.

“First, the tribute from the victors,” Effie announces, moving towards the bowl in front of her that contains a measly three scraps of paper. Katniss might just be imagining it, but she thinks Effie’s enthusiasm has waned a little.

Effie reaches into the bowl, her long fingernails scraping the bottom.  Why bother, Katniss thinks. They all have her name written on them anyway. Effie unfolds the paper slowly. She sees the name written and glances over to the victors on her left, a look of reconciled sadness on her face.  She clears her throat again.

“Peeta Mellark.”

Katniss’s eyes widen and she watches as Peeta looks regretfully at her before walking over to stand next to Effie. She sees some of the younger boys in the crowd visibly relax; with a male victor chosen, the other tribute will be female. Peeta stands tall, not allowing his fear to show. The three of them have a deal; they do everything they can to bring him home.

Katniss realises a moment too late that she should appear to be heartbroken by this decision. This is the boy she is supposedly so in love with that she was ready to die rather than survive him, not her co-conspirator in an act of defiance against the Capitol and the Games. She hopes her look of shock comes across as surprise and heartbreak that her ‘lover’ was called and not astonishment and relief that she was not chosen herself.

Haymitch stands tensely next to her. He knows better than to feel relieved. He knows that surviving the arena is only the first battle. They get to relive it all again from the outside.

“Now for the female tribute,” Effie states as she moves towards the bowl on her left.  

Katniss thinks she must have fallen back in time when she hears the next words that come out of the District 12 escort’s mouth. Because it can’t be happening again.

“Primrose Everdeen.”

“Prim,” Katniss gasps as her eyes frantically search the crowd for her sister.

Acting on instinct, she takes a step forwards.

“I vo-“

She’s cut off by Haymitch grabbing her elbow and pulling her back.

“It won’t work. Don’t make a scene in front of the cameras. It won’t help her,” he mutters in her ear.

Katniss reluctantly ceases her struggles, already planning how they’re going to get her out of that arena alive.  It’s a frightening thing to have such little control over the situation. Her instinct is to act, to grab her sister, run away and fight anyone who tries to stop them. But she can’t act on her instincts. She has to play the part of the passive Victor for the cameras.

Before Katniss knows it, she’s being led back into the Justice Building. Haymitch’s hand is on her waist, guiding her. Prim and Peeta are taken off into separate rooms to say their goodbyes and Katniss and Haymitch are left alone. Glancing left and right, Haymitch grabs her upper arm and pulls her into an abandoned closet. He must know they will be undisturbed and unmonitored there.

Katniss flings her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. She thumps her fist on his chest once, though it’s a weak attempt.  Haymitch doesn’t react, used to her outbursts of vulnerability by this point. He gently strokes her hair, pushing the loose bits back from her face. It’s in her signature braid again, he notes, undoubtedly for the cameras. She takes a step back to look at him.

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, knowing deep down that he had his reasons. He was better at seeing the bigger picture than she was.

“She was picked for a reason,” Haymitch tells her. “They both were. Snow is playing an angle. We can’t give him any more reasons to target her. If you had tried to volunteer for her again, think of what the districts would have done. She wouldn’t be allowed to just walk away either. You’re already a hero for the first time you volunteered for her. You can’t be seen to be one-upping the Capitol again.”

Katniss nods, but she still knows that if she were to get the opportunity to take Prim’s spot again she would do it in a heartbeat. The games were torture, the aftermath unbearable, but if Katniss could save Prim from it she would go through it all again.

“We can make her the priority,” Haymitch says carefully. “He’ll understand. He’d do anything for you.”

He doesn’t promise her that they’ll get Prim out alive, they both know he can’t promise that and empty words will do nothing to ease her worries, instead, he offers her the best he can. Katniss nods. She feels guilty at what she knows she’s going to have to ask Peeta to do, he doesn’t deserve to die, but Prim has to survive. There’s no other option. It’s Prim. She’s too innocent for this dark and evil world.

“Okay,” Katniss says, but she feels sick to her stomach.

Her eyes meet Haymitch’s and the gap between them seems to grow smaller. He’s just leaning in when the door to the closet is flung open and they are met with a flustered Effie, complete with a ridiculously unnatural shade of hair. They jump apart, turning towards their interrupter.

“There you two are,” Effie chastises, grabbing them each of them by the arm and dragging them out of the cupboard. “This is a cleaning closest. If you two want to have a conversation, there are proper rooms to sit down in and do so. There’s no need for impropriety and sneaking around.”

Haymitch glances sideways at Katniss as they follow Effie along the corridor, a glint in his eyes and the hint of a smirk on his lips. _Busted_. Katniss resists the urge to giggle because there’s nothing funny about the Hunger Games. But somehow, even in the darkest of moments, Haymitch can bring a whisper of a smile to her face.

Effie’s going on about how the tributes have said their goodbyes and it’s time to get on the train. They’ve held everyone up, apparently.

...

Katniss slows as they reach the platform where Peeta and Prim are waiting. She grabs Haymitch’s arm to stop him.

“I need to talk to Peeta for a moment, alone,” she says. He nods solemnly before walking over to the tributes

“Come on, little lady,” he says to Prim. “Let’s get you onto the train.

Prim glances over anxiously at Katniss for a moment, receiving a nod of encouragement, and obliges.  Katniss can feel her sister’s hesitation at being alone with Haymitch. While she no longer views him exclusively as the terrifying town drunk, she hasn’t bonded with him the same way Katniss has and truthfully, she still finds him quite scary. Poor Prim, Katniss thinks. Poor frightened Prim. This world is going to eat her up. She’s not strong enough for the Capitol.

Peeta waits back with Katniss until they are the only two left who aren’t on the train. To any onlookers, it looks like a private moment between the two lovers. In reality, this is the moment that Katniss asks Peeta to die for her.

“Peeta, I have to ask you-“

“I know, Katniss,” he says before she can ask anything. “I know what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do my best to keep Prim alive and help her win.”

He knows he’s signing his own death warrant by doing this, but he can’t deny Katniss. It’s worth it just to see the look of relief on her face.

“I don’t want you to die,” she confesses, “but I can’t let her die, Peeta. I just can’t.”

He nods, trying to hide his own fear and sadness from her.

“Thank you,” she says suddenly, wrapping her arms around him. He holds her tight, knowing that this could be one of the last times he receives such an embrace from her. They haven’t exactly been close since the last games. She presses a kiss to his cheek before turning and climbing onto the train.

Effie will be fuming. Katniss has held them up enough.

Sure enough, they are met with a flustered and furious Effie when they step inside the train.

“Where have you two been?” she scolds them. Then her face softens as she notices a hint of the lipstick that Katniss was forced to wear on Peeta’s cheek.

“Oh never mind,” she sighs to her favourite couple. “You’re here now.”

Effie never really got the motto about Katniss and Peeta’s lack of affection after the last Hunger Games. She never was good with subtlety. Perhaps it was for the best.

Haymitch enters the carriage and his eyes immediately flicker over to the same pink smudge that Effie had noticed on Peeta’s cheek. Katniss might have been imagining it, but his eyes seem to darken.

“She’s in her bedroom,” he announces stiffly to Katniss. “I’m sure she wants to see you.”

Katniss nods and heads off in the direction where Haymitch came from.

“Thank you,” she murmurs to Haymitch as she passes him.

He stops her with a hand on her arm, looks like he wants to say something. Then he lets her go.


	3. Chapter Three

_It’s not until six months after the 74th games that Katniss laughs again. It’s not until she laughs that realises she hasn’t._

_Guilt over the lost tributes sits low in her stomach and Katniss knows there’s only one person who understands._

_Haymitch is noticeably absent from his house. Katniss is about to leave, to go home and… she doesn’t know what activity she can consume herself with to make the memories go away. Haymitch has become a bit of a crutch for that._

_Then she hears a noise from the backyard and goes to investigate._

_There, she finds Haymitch and his gaggle of geese in a squabble. Most of the geese are eagerly gobbling up the spilled bag on seeds on the group. One goose, however, is engaged in a battle of tug-o’-war with Haymitch. It has his beanie in its beak and seems determined not to let go. Haymitch isn’t so easily beaten either._

_“Let go you little shit,” Haymitch snarls._

_All of a sudden, the goose releases the beanie with a honk and a flap of its wings. The abruptness sends Haymitch sprawling backwards onto the icy ground, his hand automatically releasing its grip. The beanie flies through the air and lands at the goose’s feed. With a happy honk, it snatches up the beanie and rushes off to join its friends._

_Katniss can’t help it. She laughs. A true deep laugh that she feels in her belly. Haymitch looks up from his spot on the ground and upon seeing the joy on her face, he can’t help but join her laughter._

_It feels good, Katniss realises, as she feels the unfamiliar upward stretch of her lips. It brings with it a feeling of serenity she hasn’t felt in a long time, since back when she was her old self._

_“I’m naming that one Katniss,” Haymitch grumbles as he climbs to his feet. “Pain in the bloody ass.”_

_Katniss laughs again._

_It’s a welcome relief from the constant state of mental anguish she normally exists in._

_‘Glad to be of entertainment,’ Katniss knows Haymitch will say snarkily if she thanks him._

_She doesn’t voice her gratitude to him, but she feels it all the same._

 

…

 

Katniss lies with her sister until she falls asleep, soothing her by singing and stroking her hair. She has reassured Prim that she is going to win; they are all working on it. Prim believes her big sister with no hesitations. If Katniss can win the Hunger Games, then she can find a way to help her win too; Prim is sure of it.

 Once satisfied that Prim is in a deep sleep, Katniss quietly creeps out and makes her way down to Haymitch’s room. It is a familiar route from the last time they were on this train together. Haymitch’s room has a faulty camera. Katniss had found out during the Victory Tour.  He hadn’t said the words out loud, but he had implied that one of his tech-savvy victor friends had messed with it years ago as a favour to him. It has never been fixed and Haymitch always claims the same room. The Capitol has better things to do than watch an old drunk drink himself into unconsciousness, he says. 

She opens the door without knocking and is mildly surprised to find Peeta sitting on a chair across the room.

“Come on in, Sweetheart,” Haymitch says from his position slouched on the bed, waving her inside with a bottle in his hand. “Join the team meeting.”

He is buzzed, she notes, but not full-on drunk. He must be pacing himself.

With no other seating options, Katniss climbs onto the bed next to Haymitch, avoiding Peeta’s searching gaze. It’s not like it’s a place she hasn’t been before. Haymitch offers her the bottle but she shakes her head. She needs to stay sober for Prim.

“Show her what you found, kid,” Haymitch says when it becomes apparent that he’s the only one drinking.

Peeta pulls out the three bowls used in the reaping. How he managed to acquire them, Katniss doesn’t know. He holds one of the bowls out to her.

“Pick a name,” Haymitch orders.

It’s a cruel game, Katniss doesn’t want to be Effie, but she obliges anyway.

Katniss picks out a slip of paper and opens it.

_Primrose Everdeen._

She drops it on the bed and picks another.

 _Primrose Everdeen._  

She tries again.

_Primrose Everdeen._

_Primrose Everdeen._

_Primrose Everdeen._

She would bet a year’s worth of her Victor’s salary that they all say the same thing.

“It was rigged,” Katniss states unnecessarily. “It was always going to be Prim. And you?”

The last part is directed at Peeta. In response, he passes her the bowl that now only contains two slips. She pulls out the first one.

_Katniss Everdeen._

She reaches in for the remaining name.

_Haymitch Abernathy._

“So the victors’ reaping wasn’t rigged but the girls’ was,” Katniss observes. “And the boys?”

Peeta is ahead of her, already passing her the remaining bowl. She reaches for a name, unsurprised when she sees it.

_Gale Hawthorn._

She pulls out name after name, just to be sure – he did have a lot of entries into the games what with the tessera. By the time she gives up, the bowl is half empty and dozens on pieces of paper litter the bed. They all say the same thing.

_Gale Hawthorn._

“So what do we know?” Katniss asks. “Why only rig two of them?”

“They’re playing the game,” Haymitch answers, distaste in his voice. “Leaving the victors up to chance, but having an alternate plan to subdue you no matter who gets picked.”

“If I’d been chosen, Gale would have been chosen too,” Katniss observes thoughtfully. “They would have pitted us against each other and I’d likely be dead by the end.”

“The Mockingjay would be silenced,” Haymitch adds almost contemptuously. “Of course, with Peeta and Prim reaped, the question will be whether you choose Lover Boy over your sister - you can bet they’ll bombard you with questions about that when you get to the capital.”

Katniss frowns, she hates it when Haymitch uses that nickname for Peeta, especially when it’s coupled with the sarcasm. He knows better.

“Either way you lose, Sweetheart,” Haymitch states. “Option 1: you were reaped and die in the games because you can be sure there’s no way they’d be letting you out. With the symbol dead, her best friend and ally in the arena dead too and the reminder that the Capitol crushes all, they would have successfully ended any chance of rebellion -  they probably would have slit Prim, Peeta and your mother’s throats too, maybe even mine for good measure. Option 2: Peeta and Prim go in. They’ll ask you an incessant barrage of questioning about who you’re picking and who you want to come out at the end. Best case, one dies. Worst case, they both do. Either way, in the end, the districts will see you as the heartbroken girl who’s just seen her boyfriend and/or sister killed. You’re defeated. Not much of a symbol for resistance, if you ask me.”

Katniss swallows back a lump in her throat and she sees Peeta glance down at Haymitch’s bluntness. He’s certainly not holding back to spare anyone’s feelings.

“They show that if you fight back, you lose,” Haymitch continues, pauses to take a long drink. He downs nearly a third of the bottle in one gulp. “You always lose against the Capitol.”

“And if you’d been reaped?” Peeta speaks up. “What would have been their angle then? Sure, Prim would be in there, but if she won? Not that we don’t care for and appreciate you, Haymitch. I mean, you’re our favourite mentor.”

Haymitch scoffs, glancing over at Katniss for a moment. She deliberately avoids looking back at him.

“You figure it out, kid,” he retorts mockingly. The boy always was naive.  

Silence falls over them and the automatic lights slowly fade to dark. Katniss begins to wonder if maybe she should have taken Haymitch up on his offer of a drink. She listens to the clack of the train as it speeds along the tracks and finds herself foolishly hoping it won’t reach its destination.

Katniss leans back in the bed, looking up at the roof. She can see Peeta in his chair across the room, deep in thought. Whether thinking about Haymitch’s words or his impending death, Katniss does not know. Once upon a time, she might have asked him, but she thinks she’s lost the right. Haymitch lies beside her, silent and unmoving. He appears asleep, but he doesn’t have a death grip on his knife, so she suspects he may be feigning.

It’s late. Katniss can tell as her eyes droop and she feels sleep take over her body. Peeta stands.

“Are you going to bed?” he asks her, hesitant to leave her alone with Haymitch. He’s seen Haymitch wake up and knows the dangers. He needn’t worry. It’s a scene Katniss has seen many more times than he has.

“I’ll go soon,” she replies quietly so as not to wake Haymitch, just on the off chance that he might actually be sleeping.

Peeta nods and leaves the room, wishing her goodnight. She echoes the sentiment.

Almost as soon as the door slides shut, Haymitch rolls over to face Katniss, inches from her. She turns her head to him.

“Are you staying tonight?” he asks hopefully.

“I should go back to Prim, in case she wakes up,” Katniss replies, torn between her desire to care for her sister and to allow herself to be cared for. But the protective sister instinct wins out.

Haymitch nods and leans in to close the gap between them, capturing her lips with his own. She instinctively moves closer to him, her hand finding its way into his hair. When his tongue slides over her bottom lip, seeking entrance, she obliges. His hand grips her hip, possessive fingers holding her tight, and his leg finds its way between her thighs, separating them. She moans as he grinds against her and feels the familiar need for him settle inside her. But she knows she needs to leave. Her sister needs her.

Katniss reluctantly pulls away from her mentor.

“I should go.”

Haymitch groans and rolls onto his back, but he understands. Katniss leans over and gives him one last swift kiss before climbing off the bed and heading to the door.

“Night, Sweetheart,” he calls as she leaves, his voice husky. “I’ll have sweet dreams of you.” 

She chuckles to herself and leaves him with a whispered good night.

Her smile fades with each step as she walks back down the train to Prim’s bedroom. This isn’t some vacation, she reminds herself. She’s escorting her sister and her supposed love to their potential deaths.

 “Katniss, is that you?” Prim asks sleepily as Katniss tries to sneak in the door quietly.

“Shh, go back to sleep, little duck,” Katniss replies as she climbs into bed and wraps her arms around her. Maybe if she can hold her, cover her body, she can keep her safe from all this. It’s a foolish thought.


	4. Chapter Four

_The first time Katniss is truly alone with Haymitch is on the train home after the 74 th games. Sleep refuses to come, scenes of carnage and dead children on her mind. She gets up out of bed, intending to go to Peeta. Surely he’s suffering from the same horrors as she is. Instead, she gets distracted by a light in the drinks car. On a whim, she walks toward it, suspecting she knows who’s in there. She could do with some mentoring. _

_If Haymitch is surprised to see her when she opens the door and enters without a word, he doesn’t show it. He simply gestures towards the empty seat across from himself and reaches for a bottle._

_Katniss sits. Haymitch says nothing. He just drinks deeply, eyes closed as he tips the bottle up._

_“Can I have some?” she asks._

_She’s never seen the appeal before, of using alcohol as a band-aid, but anything has got to feel better than the horrors she feels right now._

_Haymitch raises an eyebrow at her and hesitates. It’s a slippery slope, one he doesn’t want her to have to fall down, but he also knows the pain she’s feeling and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Who is he to deny her when he can make dull the pain, even if only for a short time._

_He holds the bottle out to her. It feels like a pitiful offering, but it’s all he knows how to give._

_Katniss takes the offered bottle and tips it back. The girl on fire doesn’t do things by half. The alcohol burns her throat and she coughs and spits it up._

_“Careful, careful,” Haymitch chastises. “That’s strong stuff. Don’t want to go wasting it all.”_

_Katniss tries again, taking a smaller gulp this time. It’s much more bearable and she manages to keep it down. She hands the bottle back to Haymitch. She wonders when it starts to feel good._

_“Tell me, Haymitch,” she says, watching as he takes a well-practised chug of the bottle. “Does it ever get any better?”_

_His response is to pass the bottle back to her._

_“You’ll probably want this,” he says._

...

Katniss wakes up the morning after the reaping to an empty bed. Panic sets in.

“Prim! Prim!” she cries as she searches the bed.

For a moment she thinks she has slept too long, the games have started and Prim is already in the arena with no chance for Katniss to say goodbye or give her any advice. Then the gentle rock of the train brings her back to earth. If they are still on the train, then they’re not in the Capitol yet. They’re still safe.

Katniss climbs out of bed at makes her way down to the dining carriage, her stomach rumbling. She would say she’s starving, but she’s experienced hunger that’s much worse.

She’s relieved to see Prim sitting at the dining table, staring at the multitude of dishes in awe. There are eggs and bacon and Katniss’s favourite stew, waffles and toast with every condiment imaginable and more. It sickens Katniss, but her mouth waters.

“Do I really get to eat this?” Prim asks, her voice small.

Katniss nods.

“Just don’t eat too much of the rich stuff at once,” she cautions. “Your stomach won’t be able to handle it.”

Prim nods in reply and sets about quietly serving herself a very modest helping of the food.

“You can have a little more, Primrose dear,” Effie says from across the table, smiling across at the young girl. “Go on.”

“Thank you, Miss Trinket,” Prim replies with a shy smile, helping herself to another waffle.

“You can call me Effie, dear,” Effie responds. “There’s no need for such formality between a tribute and her escort.”

Prim nods before casting her eyes down and picking up her knife and fork.

Katniss thinks Effie might just explode from happiness. She’s finally got the well mannered, polite tribute she’s been dreaming of all this time. 

The calm, refined atmosphere is interrupted as the door slides open and in saunters Haymitch.

“Morning, Effie. Morning, Junior,” he acknowledges Effie and Prim as he plops down in the vacant seat next to Katniss.

“Morning, Sweetheart,” he says cheerfully before winking at Katniss and reaching out to serve himself some food.

Effie huffs and tuts, appalled as always by his behaviour.

He’s drunk, Katniss can smell it on him, but she isn’t surprised.  He once told her that the worst part of the games wasn’t the arena, it was sending a fresh lot of lambs off to slaughter every year.

Katniss looks over at her sister, looking very lamb-like in her pale blouse and white woollen cardigan. She mentally shakes the thought out of her head, because Prim isn’t going in there to die and they will save her.

Effie and Haymitch argue all throughout breakfast while Katniss watches them go back and forth, her head going from side to side like she’s watching a tennis match. She suspects that Haymitch does it on purpose to get Effie worked up; he does the same to her. She’s almost a little jealous. Prim sits quietly with her head down, too quiet, but given the circumstances, Katniss can understand. Peeta doesn’t appear at breakfast at all.

“I should take Peeta some food,” Katniss announces, standing up and loading a plate for him. “Will you be alright, Prim?”

Prim nods, but Katniss knows she’s still scared. She felt the same way a year ago when she was in Prim’s place. She feels the same way now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Primrose dressed and ready for the day,” Effie promises. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, dear?”

Prim looks up at Effie and gives her a small genuine smile and a nod. Katniss can see the beginnings of a friendship blooming between the two of them. She trusts Effie to look after Prim while they’re on the train.

Katniss passes Haymitch on her way to the door. He snatches a piece of toast off Peeta’s plate as she walks by. She turns around and gives him a reproachful look before walking out without a word. He’s just being deliberately mischievous now.

...

Katniss knocks softly on Peeta’s door before it automatically slides open. He sits up on the bed, staring out the window as the countryside goes rushing past. He doesn’t move for a moment then turns to face Katniss without a word.

“I didn’t see you at breakfast,” she says. “I brought you some food.”

He nods as she places the plate down on the covers and doesn’t react when she climbs atop the bed next to him.

“How are you,” she asks, turning her head to look at him. He raises his eyebrows at her in response. Fair point.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,” she continues sincerely. “It’s shit. It’s just shit.”

“I just can’t believe I’m going back,” he replies distantly, staring off at the wall. His food remains untouched.

“I wish you didn’t have to die,” she admits. He coughs, a hint of a laugh, at her bluntness. She’s been spending too much time with Haymitch.

“Thanks, Katniss. Thanks a lot.”

She’s not used to sarcasm and snark from Peeta, that’s Haymitch’s territory, but she figures that under the circumstances it’s allowed. With what he’s doing for her, he can talk to her however he wants.

“Maybe we can,” she begins, pausing and starting again. “Maybe there’s a way that both of you can...”

“Don’t, Katniss,” he interrupts sharply. “Just don’t.”

He doesn’t need her false hope thrust on him. He knows he’s not coming home at the end of it all and he can’t afford to think that he is. You don’t get to win the games twice. Winning once isn’t even a victory.

Silence falls over the pair of them. It’s an uncomfortable itchy silence.

“Why?” she asks Peeta when she can’t stand it anymore. “Why are you doing this?”

“I want to do something good before I go,” he answers after pausing to think for a moment. “They may have taken my life, but I can take something from them too.”

Katniss knows he isn’t just speaking about his upcoming suicide mission. Life after the games isn’t much of a life. You never really win the Games. They beat you, over and over again. It’s a reminder of how the Capitol always comes out victorious no matter what. It’s a reminder that the spirit of the few can be crushed by those in power. It’s a reminder of how little control they have over their own lives.

Katniss stands to leave. Peeta thinks he hears her mutter a soft ‘I’m sorry’ under her breath. Her head is hung as she walks to the door. But she can’t bring herself to regret her decision.

“Katniss,” he calls just as she is about to walk through the door. “I know we’re not,” he gestures between them vaguely, “but what happens when we get to the Capitol? What’s the story then?”

Katniss wonders what Haymitch would say, what advice he would give them. She thinks she knows.

“We smile for the cameras and act like we’re in love,” she replies because, even with everything going on, they’ve still got the threat of the berry fiasco hanging over their heads.

He nods. He can act, but he’s got nothing on her skills.

...

Katniss returns to Prim’s room to find the young girl dressed and sitting expectantly on the side of the bed, hands folded in her lap. She’s dressed in a bright pastel yellow outfit that’s similar in colour to the one Effie was wearing at breakfast. Her hair is braided into an intricate braid on the top of her head with two long pigtails falling over her shoulders.

“Effie did my hair,” Prim explains. “Do you like it?”

“You look beautiful, Prim,” Katniss replies as she sits down on the bed next to her. 

“Katniss,” she says, her voice small and bell-like. “Can I really do this? Can I win?”

“Of course you can,” Katniss replies, stroking her young sister’s hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing. You’ll have Peeta inside the arena helping you and Haymitch and I will be doing everything we can from outside.” She turns Prim towards her, taking her young face in her hands. “You’re going to survive this, Prim. I promise.”

Even as she says it, there’s a foul taste in her mouth. Promises shouldn’t be made where the Capitol’s involved.


	5. Chapter Five

_Returning back to district 12 after surviving the Hunger Games is like landing after freefall for Katniss. She chances a glance to the side to see if Peeta feels the same. Instead, she sees Haymitch slinking off away from the crowds, back to his dingy house. His head is down and his pace hurried. It’s a long walk home, but it’s better than the alternative. Katniss looks back up at the crowd and realises just how much of a lie this whole thing is._

_The crowd is cheering. Shouts of “Panem forever” ring out. They don’t support the Games, Katniss knows. Nearly every single person out there has lost someone to the reaping. But they still perpetuate the lie. Their actions scream compliance, cheers promote the Games, but their eyes remain dead inside. They cheer to support the lie. For the most part, this keeps them alive. It keeps the Games alive too, fuels the Capitol’s power._

_She spots Prim in the crowd, pride and joy on her face. It’s not support, it’s relief. Her mother’s expression echoes the sentiments. They didn’t expect her home, but they’re glad she is._

_Katniss looks to Peeta again. He grins, waving at the crowd. She can’t bring herself to smile. He’s ever the people’s choice, satisfying the crowd and the eager fans watching at home. Katniss tries to project some sort of happiness out. She doesn’t think she can feel the emotion anymore._

_“Smile for the cameras,” Effie mutters out of the side of her mouth. “You’re in love.”_

_She shouldn’t need the reminder, not if she is really in love. She manages a small wave, thinks the corners of her mouth rise a little. Peeta swoops in to save her as always, leaning in to kiss her cheek, lips brushing the corner of her mouth._

_“You’re in love,” she silently reminds herself. She wonders when she can drop this charade. No one’s told her how to survive outside the arena._

_Katniss is grateful when the cameras decide they’ve had their share of false joy and back away from her, blinking lights turning off. Effie hustles the pair of them towards a waiting car. Katniss doesn’t realise it until she’s inside, but she’s been holding her breath._

_Effie sits in the front, recounting the tale of their victory to the driver. Like he doesn’t know. Everyone knows their love story. Katniss and Peeta share the backseat. Katniss sits as far from him as possible. She’s coming down from the hunt. She hopes she can relax soon._

_They spot Haymitch up ahead, stumbling a little as he walks, his flask glued to his hand. Katniss notices his collar is popped, the top button undone, and one of his shoelaces is untied. He couldn’t even wait until he was in the privacy of his own home to fall into a drunken mess again. But it’s a lonely road to the Victor’s Village._

_Effie huffs at his “appalling behaviour” and requests that the driver stops for him. It’s not proper for a Victor to be seen behaving in such a manner. After some refusing and wild hand gestures, Haymitch reluctantly gets into the car, sliding in next to Katniss. She smells alcohol on his breath, his clothes, his entire person. She wonders how much he consumed on the train while she was with Peeta._

_“Driver, take me to the liquor store,” he slurs to muttered protests from Effie. He notices Katniss staring at his flask._

_“I’d offer you some but I’m all out,” he says. Effie’s vocalised dismay increases._

_“Underage drinking!” she cries, her sharp Capitol accent cutting through the tense atmosphere in the car. Of course, underage drinking is considered much more taboo than underage murder, Katniss thinks. What a world she lives in._

_Katniss looks to the boy she’s supposedly in love with. He looks like relief is on the horizon. He’s nearly home. She turns over to the man on her other side. He appears as though he’ll never see another sunrise in his life: bleak, grim acceptance. One’s a fairy tale, she thinks. A story where love can overcome anything. The other’s a depressing tale of reality. She can’t bring herself to believe the lie anymore. She doesn’t love him, doesn’t love the story. She survives on a cold, harsh dose of reality._

_The car comes to a stop at the entrance to the Victor’s Village._

_Haymitch turns to her before stepping out of the car and retreating to his house._

_“You know where to find me, Sweetheart,” he says._

_She thinks she might just do that._

...

The train speeds swiftly towards the Capitol. Katniss’s chest tightens with each passing second. She can feel the beginnings of hyperventilation and a full-blown panic attack within her grasp, but she holds them at bay. She’s got to be strong for Prim.

It’s been a long, sleepless night. The last glimpses of the day are peeking out from behind the hills, bringing with them a sense of impending tribulations.   

 “Haymitch wants to talk strategy.”

Katniss glances up to see Peeta standing in the doorway. She stands, ushering Prim out of the room with a hand on her back, and together they follow him down the hallway without a word.

She’s pleased to find Haymitch remarkably bereft of a drink and reasonably sober, by his standards. He nods his head towards her in greeting and waits until the trio have taken their seats. Katniss sits next to Haymitch. The two tributes sit across from them.

Haymitch clears his throat.

“The train will arrive in the Capitol soon,” he announces. “We need to figure out what angle we’re going to use before we get there.”

“We save Prim,” Katniss responds. “That’s what we agreed on.”

Both Prim and Peeta remain silent, Prim out of shyness and Peeta out of unease at the reminder of his upcoming death.

“Way to state the obvious, Sweetheart,” Haymitch retorts. He gets snappy when he goes too long without a drink. “But it’s not all about survival. There is some PR work involved too, which you would know if you’d had the years of mentoring experience that I have.”

 “Alright,” she relents, bristling at his tone. “How do we play it then?”

“Well the Capitol is still pretty pissed that you two managed to outsmart them with your little berry trick, so we need to keep up the ploy that you two are still madly in love,” Haymitch begins, animating his words the occasional loose hand gesture. “Now you may not believe it and I may not believe it and Snow may not believe it, but the public needs to buy the story. They’re the ones who are on the edge. If they revolt, it comes back to you. Plus, they’re the ones who are going to bankroll this party. We need sponsors if we’re going to win this thing.”

Katniss notes that Haymitch didn’t mention anything about Peeta not believing it. For someone who apparently isn’t convincing enough, she’s sure done a good job of fooling Peeta, for a while at least.

“So when you get back there, you’re in love,” Haymitch continues. “You’re so in love that Peeta is going to take care of Prim and make sure she wins this damn thing because he’s ready to die to save you from losing your sister.”

He doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s already halfway true, for one of them at least. Katniss wishes he wouldn’t discuss these things in front of Prim. She doesn’t need to know the full horrors of it, just that she’s going to make it out alive and to trust Peeta. But she supposes her sister’s going to be exposed to the horrors of the Capitol one way or another. Haymitch isn’t going to sugar coat them for Prim, just as he didn’t do for Katniss the previous year, and she can bet the Capitol won’t either.

“It’s romantic, it’s tragic, it’s all that crap that the Capitol eats up,” Haymitch goes on. “That’s the story they want. The people want a love story and Snow wants heartbreak. You give it to them and then maybe, maybe, some of us get to live another day and the others,” he pauses to glance over at Peeta, “well, some things are worse than death.”

“What about Peeta?” Prim pipes up quietly. “If I win, how does he survive?”

A heavy blanket of reality seems to fall over the eldest three of the quartet.

“Don’t you worry about that, little one,” Haymitch replies, face softening as he looks at her. “You just focus on keeping yourself alive and getting back out to your sister.”

Prim glances over at Peeta, her eyes wide and afraid. He nods at her in confirmation. He’s already made a promise to Katniss. Prim lets out a little whimper because it’s not fair that Peeta should be allowed to come home when Katniss was in the games but die when she’s in there. She hasn’t even scratched the surface of the unfairness that the Capitol thrives off.

“We’re here,” Haymitch announces and Katniss looks up to see the Capitol in the distance before the tunnel swallows the train whole. Haymitch takes his flask out of his pocket and downs a considerable amount. He’s going to need it.

Then suddenly they’re out of the tunnel and the crowd is waving and cheering for them again. Prim stretches up in her seat, trying to see them. Peeta remains seated this time.

“Go on, Prim,” Katniss says, a lump in her throat. She feels like she’s already handing her little sister over to the Capitol and they haven’t even gotten off the train yet.

Prim jumps up and goes to stand at the window, in awe of the crowd before her. She doesn’t wave, instead, she just stares wide-eyed at the cheering masses before her. She’s never seen this many people in her life.

The train slows and Katniss knows it’s almost time. She stands and walks over to Prim, placing her hand on her shoulder. The crowd goes wild at the sight of the girl on fire and the sister she risked her life to save.

“Nice move, Sweetheart,” Haymitch praises.  


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Haymitch steal a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extended break, life got in the way and I lost a bit of inspiration. I'm trying to get back on track with regular updates now.   
> The first scene of this chapter is my favourite I've written and is basically what started this whole fic. I hope you enjoy it.

_Receiving training and preparation for the games prior to being reaped is forbidden, with the exception of the careers. But there’s no law against previous Victors working on their skills. With the reaping of the 75 th Hunger Games approaching and the knowledge that 50% of the tributes will be reaped from the Victors, there comes an opportunity for action. Haymitch knows his drunk ass won’t last five minutes in there if he doesn’t do something – train. _

_Katniss is surprised when she finds him off the couch and without a drink. There are a number of holes and a few knives stuck in the walls. He holds another knife in his hand, playing with it lightly as he views his target. Then, in an instant, the knife flies out of his hand and embeds itself into the wall. Right where he wanted it._

_He’s in the zone, another knife in his hand ready to strike again. He twists it around as if to fight off an invisible opponent with practised skill. This is no drunken flailing. He sinks the knife into the couch, pulling it free and slicing it through the air._

_He still hasn’t noticed her, swept up in his imagined scenario. Katniss stupidly creeps forwards, captivated while watching the way he moves. He’s swift and accurate, deadly and without reserve._

_A floorboard creaks beneath her foot and he’s on her in an instant, knife at her throat. He shoves her up against the wall, body pinning her with a surprising strength. One hand holds the knife to her jugular and the other holds both her wrists, pressing them to the wall above her head and holding her captive. His pupils are dilated and she feels his breath on her face, a faint trace of alcohol perceptible. He doesn’t look like the Haymitch she knows. But then she doesn’t look like Katniss. She looks like a threat._

_Katniss’s heart races, trying to control her instinct to fight back. She can’t help but struggle a little and his response is to press his body against her even harder, hand pressing her wrists even higher. It’s pure instinct with them, killer versus killer. Hunter and the hunted. Both running on adrenaline, brains not entirely processing the scene before them. In that moment, they’re both back in the arena. Everyone is a threat and only the ruthless survive._

_The knife pricks Katniss’s throat; she thinks it’s drawn blood. She lets out a little gasp at the sensation. That seems to get Haymitch’s attention. His eyes soften as horror at what he’s done floods his features. The knife falls to the floor, the clattering of metal on wood ringing out. His grip on her wrists loosens, but he doesn’t let her go. Her breathing is starting to slow, heart rate returning to normal, when he surprises her._

_He crashes his lips to hers, possessive, needy and desperate all at once. He moulds his body to her as if he can only make this up to her by giving everything 150% - kissing her harder, gripping her hair, pushing his body to hers until they can’t get any closer, hips rough and strong against hers. She can taste the fear on his tongue._

_When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to hers, leans into her._

_“Shit, Katniss,” he breathes._

_He lets go of her wrists and she brings her hand up to cup his cheek. There’s no need to apologise. They both have the instincts of the hunted. The arena does that to people._

_..._

Once they get onto the platform, Prim and Peeta are swiftly whisked away. Prim sends Katniss a frantic backwards glance and Katniss tries to school her features into something somewhat reassuring. Katniss inwardly winces in empathy for what she knows her sister is about to go through with the prep team, though it’s far from the worst the Capitol will do.

Effie power walks off ahead down the tunnel ahead of them – there’s a schedule to keep to, she reminds them -  leaving Katniss and Haymitch to follow behind on their own. The cheers of the crowd fade away with each step. They’re sickening, not encouraging.

The mentors are left alone at this point, but there’s nowhere to escape to. There’s only one way to go and when they emerge from the tunnel they’ll be at the Capitol’s mercy once again.

“This is one part of the games I won’t miss,” Katniss confesses as they walk closer than your usual mentor pair, arms almost touching. Haymitch glances over at her and raises an eyebrow.

“Come on,” she defends. “You have no idea what it was like. They waxed everything they possibly could and then smothered me in every single ‘beauty’ product imaginable. I mean what would they have had to do to you? Strip you off and make you take a bath for once?”

Haymitch holds back his retort for a moment because he knows she’s imagining the scene.

“I’ll have you know I was a very handsome young tribute,” Haymitch replies, let him add a little fuel to her thoughts. “You don’t have to mess with that sort of perfection.”

 Katniss imagines a young 16 year old Haymitch on his way to the games. She wonders if he had the same sharp tongue he has now. She wonders if he was happy. They can talk about the road to their games now, but Katniss knows that neither of them is ready to talk about what happened in the arena or after. Some things just shouldn’t be touched.

“But don’t think you’ll get off easy this time,” he adds. “They’ll want you back on screen and you can bet they’ll leave you at the mercy of the prep team first.”

He pokes at a stray eyebrow hair on her face as if to prove a point.

Suddenly, the teasing isn’t funny anymore. Katniss falls out of step with Haymitch, her breaths uneven and sharp. Sensing her panic, Haymitch pulls her to the side of the tunnel, making sure they’re as far from the lights as possible. He knows there are cameras here, ready to catch footage of the mentors and tributes arriving, but they can only get a good picture if the subjects are in the light. Haymitch prefers to play in the dark. He angles Katniss so her back is to the wall and steps close, his body blocking out the outside world, protecting her.

“Breathe,” he reminds her, his hands on her shoulders. He wishes there had been someone to ease his panic when he had returned to the Capitol for his first time as a mentor. “Breathe, Katniss.”

The use of her first name seems to give her a moment of shock that’s enough to bring her back to the present.

“Prim,” she gasps frantically. “They’ve got Prim”

“The prep team’s got Prim,” he clarifies calmly. “Cinna’s got Prim.”

Katniss makes an effort to control her breathing. Cinna is okay. She can trust him.

Haymitch watches her closely as she slows her breathing, his features tense until he’s sure she’s breathing normally again. Even then he doesn’t move from his position covering her body.

“While I’ve got you here,” he starts, knowing he might not get another moment alone with her before the cameras get to her.

Katniss cuts him off, crushing her lips to his in a chaste and desperate kiss. His body is firm and protective against hers, moulding against her and pushing her into the cold brick wall. She thinks that if she can stay here, trapped between him and the wall in this protective bubble, she might be okay.

Haymitch chuckles as he pulls away.

“Well, yes, that,” he says. “But there’s more that I wanted to say you to about the strategy for the cameras.”

Katniss feels her body slump a little at this, but listens intently anyway.

“You know they’re going to want to play the whole Peeta versus Prim storyline, who you care about more bla bla bla,” he explains. “Now I know you choose her, but you can’t make that too obvious. It’ll just give them more reasons to target her.”

“I’m not going to go out there and pretend I don’t care about her,” she argues stubbornly, the fire coming out to play. “No one would buy that.”

“Of course not,” replies Haymitch, snark leaking into his voice. “No one’s suggesting that. But you’re supposed to be in love with the boy, remember? Snow wants you to lose. You tell them you’re helplessly in love with Peeta and you can’t imagine a world without your sister and you just hope that one of them can make it out of there if just maybe one of the kind Capitol citizens donates a small fraction of their weekly earnings so we can send them in some gifts to keep them alive.”

His voice is mocking, but she knows he’s mocking the Capitols and their rich and lavish lifestyle, not her. 

“But you can’t pick sides yet,” he adds. “You’re just going to put a target on the one you pick and make the other expendable. We keep them both alive for as long as possible and that relies on you acting like you care about them equally. Can you do that, Sweetheart?”

She hears a little frustration in his question, but she’s learnt not to take it too personally, just like he doesn’t take her constant instinct to argue personally anymore.

Katniss nods because she has to do this.

“Good girl,” he croons. Then he leans in, kissing her softly, each brush of his lips a promise to help her through this, to mentor her.

Reluctantly, he steps away. He can practically hear Effie’s complaints that they’re holding everyone up again.

President Snow’s words flash through Katniss’s mind. _One victor and one tribute_. _In recognition of the special relationship between a mentor and their tribute._

_“_ Haymitch,” she calls, her breathing starting to get frantic again. She grabs his arm to stop him leaving, her grip just a little too harsh and frantic. He turns back to her, concern in his eyes.

“Snow knows,” she says. “He knows about us. This is why he’s doing all this.”

Haymitch appears to deliberate this for a moment. Truthfully, the thought has crossed his mind. But he doesn’t want to be responsible for this. He doesn’t want her to be responsible for this. He doesn’t want her to have to live with the guilt of getting her sister killed. He knows that story and wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, least of all her. He doesn’t want her to become him.

“We should go,” he says abruptly, taking a large step back from her. “Effie will be waiting.”

With that, he turns and walks off down the tunnel again. He listens to the rhythmical smack of his shoes on the slick concrete floor, each step taking him closer to hell.  

Katniss’s heart thuds as she follows Haymitch. This is all to stop her, or more specifically, to stop what she stands for; to tear everything she loves from her. The worst part is she doesn’t want to be the Mockingjay. She just wants her friends and family to stay safe and alive.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tributes arrive.

_Katniss tries to adjust to life in the Victor’s Village. She fails._

_She sees Peeta occasionally. He likes to bring her bread and other treats from the bakery. Things have fallen to an awkward acquaintanceship between them.  She never seeks him out._

_For the first two weeks, she doesn’t see Haymitch at all. She barely sleeps. Food is almost too difficult to eat. She wastes away, caught in a continual loop of the horror of the games. She sees it over and over again: the young tributes sent in to die, the strong hunting down the weak, the innocent lives lost. Over and over again. She’s taken to washing her hands excessively, feels like there’s always blood on them. They’ll never be clean again. She’s supposed to be the lucky one, the Victor, but nothing feels further from the truth._

_She sees Haymitch as the sun sets on her 16 th day back in District Twelve. He steps out onto his porch, bottle in hand, and looks up at the red hues of the evening sky. He drinks. Blood, Katniss thinks. The sky is blood. A smear on what was once a beautiful sight.  She wonders if the clouds were to open up on her if they would rain blood down on her.  _

_She looks up at Haymitch, meets his eyes. That’s when she realises that everything she feels - all the terror, the pain the guilt – he feels it too, has felt it for nearly twenty-five years. It’s a small comfort, to know that she’s not alone, to share her pain with another._

_He raises the bottle to her in question, almost as if he knew this time would come._

_Haymitch copes by numbing everything with alcohol. Peeta copes with the sheer joy of still being alive, of having a future. As for Katniss, well, Katniss doesn’t cope. She wakes every night, drenched in sweat and shivering, chased by terrors of the arena. Sometimes she screams. Sometimes she is silent. One thing remains constant: she’s always back there. Katniss thinks that maybe this might be the time to find a way to cope._

_Haymitch turns and walks back into his house, leaving the door open. Katniss calls to her mother, tells her she’s going out. She doesn’t say where. She doesn’t say when she’ll be back. Realistically, she can’t get herself into any more trouble than the Games._

_She walks over to Haymitch’s house, shuts the door behind her. It’s dark and smells of spilt alcohol and a faint stench of mould. The eternally shut curtains make the house feel smaller and gloomier, but it’s almost comforting, like a dingy blanket wrapped around them._

_Haymitch sits on the couch, drinks, doesn’t watch her enter._

_“I wondered when you’d visit me,” he says._

...

Katniss stands with Haymitch and Effie on the twelfth floor of the Training Center, watching the coverage of the tributes being presented to the Capitol for the first time as they ride in on their chariots.

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith add their commentary to the event, laughing with mirth at the occasion. Their attitude to the games, Katniss realises, is representative of much of the Capitol. She thinks this might be what sickens her the most.

“First up we have the tributes from District One,” Caesar begins enthusiastically, “the lovely young Satin and of course, the victor of the 63rd Hunger Games, Gloss!”

Caesar pauses while the crowd cheers and Katniss takes a moment to size up the tributes. Gloss is handsome, but there is a strength and brutality that she can see behind the striking features.  He’s a career. That automatically makes him a threat. The girl appears to be a little older than Prim, fourteen or fifteen perhaps. She presents a tough exterior, staring down the crowd as is she’ll hack through every single one of them to be crowned the victor, but Katniss can see a hint of vulnerability and fear in her eyes. Katniss reckons the girl is much less of a threat than she thinks she is. Then again, it’s young Prim in there this time. Everyone is a threat.

“From District Two,” Caesar announces, drawing Katniss’s attention back to the screen. “We have Mason and Enobaria and oooh, just look at those teeth.”

Enobaria flashes her sharpened teeth to the cameras as the crowd ooohs along with the host. The boy, definitely one of the oldest of the new tributes, appears disgruntled at having to share the spotlight with Enobaria’s smile. Katniss takes note of this. He appears self-important and cocky. That could be his downfall. 

“I thought they weren’t allowed to bring any weapons into the arena,” Katniss says, inwardly gulping at the woman’s feral grin.

“Would you tell her no?” Haymitch counters. Katniss concedes the point.

 The Careers have a special status in the Capitol, especially the Victors, but they still aren’t immune from the reaping. Then again, they are usually glad for a chance at the glory.

“Next up, we have Caleb and Wiress,” Caesar continues as the District Three tributes appear on screen.

“Oh, she’s a dear lady,” Claudius adds as the camera zooms in on the older of the two tributes.

Katniss takes note of the way Haymitch glances away from the screen for a moment. They both know that Wiress won’t last long in there. The young boy doesn’t have much hope either. He’s thin and wiry with glasses perched upon his nose. He looks like he’s at least as young as Prim and no stockier. Prim might even be able to take him in a physical fight. But there’s something that Katniss notices about him. He takes in the scene before him, almost as if he’s cataloguing everything for future use. He notices something off to his right. What it is, Katniss doesn’t know. A small knowing smile appears on his face. He’s got a plan.

“Now, from District four, Annie and Carp!” Caesar cheers.

“Hello, Earth to Annie,” Claudius interjects to much laughter from his fellow host and himself.

Annie looks to the ground, almost as if she’s retreated into herself. Her physical body remains there, but her mind is elsewhere. Her fellow tribute looks as if he’s given up on life already. His demeanour screams defeat. Katniss mentions this to Haymitch.

“It could be a tactic,” he replies.

“And Annie?” she asks, wondering if the girl is also playing an angle.

Haymitch sighs.

“No, that’s just Annie. Lovely girl. It’s a real shame.”

Katniss feels bad for bringing it up. She forgets that some of these people are his friends.

Katniss keeps her eyes trained on Haymitch as the tributes from District Five appear on screen. Caesar introduces them as Mars and Mercuria. Mars looks as though he has been buried in a bottle for almost as long as Haymitch. The girl appears to be in her late teens. Both tributes seem to project an air of indifference, as though they have accepted their fates and are above the whole spectacle. They show no fear. But neither do they show any fight.

Every so often Katniss sees Haymitch’s hand twitch as if itching for a drink. She knows he’s trying to hold back for her, to remain sober enough to help Prim. She reaches out for his hand, letting her fingers brush against his.

The District Six tributes soon take over the screen. The young boy, Stuart, appears cocky. Much too cocky for the Games. Overconfidence only leads to a brutal death when the Capitol is concerned. The woman, introduced as Meer, bears all the classic signs of a Morphling addiction. Though only in her mid-thirties, her haggard eyes give her the appearance of a much older woman. Katniss can’t help but feel for the woman. She’s starting to understand the pull of addiction.

“And now, from District Seven,” Caesar begins, raising his voice in preparation for the announcement. “Cedar aaaand Johanna!”

The crowd roars, some boos mixed in between the cheers. Katniss notices as the camera zooms in that Joanna has raised both middle fingers in a gesture of contempt. Her face is steely and devoid of emotion.  

Effie gasps. “So rude.”

“Stupid girl,” Haymitch mutters. He knows her end won’t be pretty. He’s glad that Katniss isn’t in there this year. This seems like the sort of emotion fuelled stupid thing that she might do.

“And now we have one of the districts that’s decided to keep it in the family,” Caesar continues once the noise for Joanna’s actions has died down and the cameras are on the next pair of tributes. “From District Eight, we have our Cecilia and her son Calico.”

The boy appears to be one of the younger tributes, barely fourteen. He sticks close to his mother’s side, Katniss notes. Her heart can’t help but break for the pair. They know they won’t both be coming out. She wants to say it’s cruel, but they all know that. It’s cruel for all the tributes.

The District Nine tributes follow soon after, a steely looking woman named Maize and a young boy named Mica. The boy doesn’t appear to be much of a threat, but that could be a tactic.

“She’s a fighter,” Haymitch comments when Maize stares down the camera as if trying to intimidate every single viewer with one piercing look.

District Ten’s young tribute is a girl named Jane. She’s barely older than Prim and Katniss can’t help but feel for her. Somewhere out there, she has family that worries for her and hopes for her safe return, just as Katniss desperately hopes Prim returns safe. They can’t all get what they want.

The Victor from Ten seems to have a quiet quality that almost allows him to blend into the background, but he’s big and tough and it would be foolish to discount him. There’s something in his eyes that Katniss doesn’t trust. He’s a Victor for a reason.

When it comes to the District Eleven tributes, Chaff and Beet, Katniss notices Haymitch’s eyes glaze over, as if staring at the screen without really watching it. She recognises Chaff as the man Haymitch would often drink with during the earlier games. It must be tough for him, she thinks. She’s only got two people in there that she knows. He has thirteen.

“And lastly,” Caesar speak, his voice starting off quiet and building up to a crescendo. “I think we can all agree that these are the two tributes we have all been waiting for, the sister of last year’s victor, Primrose Everdeen and District Twelve’s other victor, Peeta Mellark!”

The crowd goes wild. Katniss feels her breath catch in her throat, feel’s Haymitch’s firm hand on her back to comfort her. Then they appear on the screen. Peeta is in a similar outfit to the one from his last games – dark and shiny, but noticeably devoid of the flames, as if his spark has been extinguished. But Katniss can’t take her eyes off her baby sister. She’s dressed in a light grey dress, sleek but youthful, her hair neatly fashioned into two braids. She’s not on fire, Katniss is happy to note, but there’s a glow emanating from her. Cinna’s outdone himself again.

Peeta has his arm around her shoulder, protective, announcing their alliance from the start. Prim stares wide-eyed at the crowd, comforted by Peeta’s gesture. She doesn’t need to look imposing. They love her already.

“They did good,” she hears Haymitch say and realises that the District Twelve tributes are no longer on the screen. Caesar is winding down the show with his usual enthusiasm. Haymitch puts his hand on her shoulder and Katniss almost thinks for a moment that she can breathe easy again, but it’s far from over and that knowledge is enough to send a sharp wave of panic over her again.

Katniss stands and walks over to the drink cart, a thrumming need beating in her ears. She grabs a bottle at random and pours herself a glass, downing it in one go. The sharp burn is a welcome distraction and it’s only the knowledge that Prim will return soon that stops Katniss from pouring another. When she looks up again, she sees Haymitch giving her a melancholy look of disappointment and pity. It’s rare that she visits the bottle before he does. But he of all people should understand. He does, she thinks to herself as she returns to the couch. He’s the one who taught her how to cope, leading by a striking example. That’s the problem. He knows it all too well; it’s all he knows.

...

_“I wondered when you’d visit me,” he says._

_“I could do with some mentoring,” she replies, sits next to him and takes the offered bottle._

_“I hope you don’t expect anything particularly profound from me,” he announces. “I’m a little drunk.”_

_She nearly laughs at the understatement. He’s more than a little drunk._

_“What was that you said to me, back on the train?” she asks. “Accept the probability of your imminent death?”_

_“And know in your heart that there’s nothing I can do to save you,” he finishes, sighing. “It’ll happen eventually. It comes for us all. And until then...”_

_“Until then?” Katniss repeats in question. She needs to know how to overcome the meantime._

_“Until then, we drink,” he finishes, downing the remains of the bottle._

_He has no experience mentoring outside the games, aside from his own tribulations. The boy is easy, he treats every day like a gift and holds on to love as the force that will see him through. Katniss... he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with her. But he has to do something._

_“Katniss,” he says, suddenly serious, his eyes softening. “Don’t become like me.”_

_In that moment, Katniss doesn’t know anything else._

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team discusses strategy.

_Katniss becomes a regular fixture at Haymitch’s house. It gets to the point where she spends more time there than she does at home. Mrs Everdeen begins to worry. Prim has been silently worrying for weeks, trying to figure out what she can do to help, but nothing has come of her concern. Katniss begins to smile a little more, tries to check in home when she knows her mother and sister will be home._

_Haymitch is never really sure when Katniss arrives. It’s not like they have a set schedule. He wakes up and she’s there. He drinks. Sometimes there’s food in the house. He passes out. Sometimes he wakes and she isn’t there. Those nights are the coldest._

_Katniss doesn’t always drink. Sometimes it’s the company she goes for, the knowledge that there’s someone out there who shares her pain. And he’s just down the road. They’ve established that his door is always open, for her at least. She comes and goes as she pleases._

_They stay inside mostly. Often, they don’t talk at all. Sometimes they will sit for hours without a word spoken. They don’t spend time together for the small talk. But occasionally there will be a moment where words are needed, a time when the comfort of another human’s voice can chase away the demons._

_“Haymitch,” she will sometimes say, waking up disoriented and afraid. She reaches out, pats her hand around blindly until it lands on his chest. She can feel the thump of his heart underneath her hand. It’s reassuring, something solid she can latch on to._

_“I’m here, Sweetheart,” he will often reply. They fall back into silence._

_On the odd occasion, they even leave the house. Peeta invites them to a party for the reopening of his family’s bakery – they’ve had it modestly renovated with some of his Victor’s salary. They go, because Peeta’s so excited and it seems like the right thing to do. They watch as Peeta announces to the guests that with the new kitchen he will bake bread for the poorer families of District Twelve, free bread for them all. It’s nothing the Capitol would allow, but Twelve is good at keeping secrets in order to stay alive._

_Katniss and Haymitch stand together at the back, watching on silently. Both wear matching expressions of sombre apathy. They’re happy for him, but they’re not happy._

_They watch as Peeta is congratulated by the crowd, loved as always. They ask where Katniss is, how their love is. Peeta searches the crowd for her. He keeps up the lie, tells the good people they’re just as in love as ever. It’s a partial truth._

_It becomes evident as the gathering goes on that Katniss and Haymitch feel as far removed from it all as possible. They’re outsiders in the rich lavish lifestyle of the Capitol and they’re outsiders at home, too damaged to put in the effort to enjoy the small things – Peeta tries, that’s the difference. But Haymitch has his flask and Katniss has Haymitch. They’re not alone, not really. They leave together, sneak off without saying goodbye. They’re not missed, not until Peeta searches the crowd for Katniss, his face falling when he’s sure no one is watching._

_..._

Katniss awaits the return of her sister anxiously. The lift doors open, Prim steps out and Katniss takes her into her arms. Her instincts tell her to never let go, to take Prim far, far away from this awful place, but she knows they wouldn’t even make it out of the building. They’d be lucky to make it off the floor before the Peacekeepers swept in.

“Nice touch, kid,” Haymitch says, clapping Peeta on the shoulder. Peeta nods in acknowledgement. He looks up to meet Katniss’s eyes. Though she doesn’t say the words, he knows she means thank you.

_..._

“Where are Prim and Proper?” Haymitch asks as he walks into the lounge room. He sits down on the plush armchair across from Katniss. He has a glass of some sort of amber liquid in his hand.

“I think Effie said she was going to help Prim pick out an outfit for dinner,” Peeta speaks up.

Haymitch nods, then lets his gaze drift over Peeta’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

Katniss and Peeta both glance behind them to see Effie shuffling into the room, her tight skirt making it difficult to take normal sized steps. Prim follows behind her, shyly flattening out her own pencil skirt. Although she’s been spared the extravagance of the Capitol-esque wig and makeup, Prim still looks like a mini Effie in the outfit.

Prim sits down next to Katniss and Effie sits across from them next to Haymitch. For a moment Katniss feels like she’s back as a tribute, looking to her mentors for advice. But she’s a mentor this year. Maybe she should be sitting on the other side.

“So, strategy,” Haymitch begins, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “Training starts tomorrow and we need to start thinking about alliances and skills.”

“Peeta scored quite well last year,” Katniss pipes up. She doesn’t add that others, including her, scored higher. He did well enough last time and she’s confident he can do it again.

“We can go the strength route again,” Haymitch agrees. “But you’ll want to show them a little more this year. Don’t do the same old thing again. Impress them. Give them something fresh.”

He finishes with a flourish of his glass, takes a drink. He seems almost entertained by the idea, but Katniss knows better now. This is how he copes.

“Well I’ve been lifting bigger sacks this year,” Peeta adds. Katniss subtly glances over at his arms, seeing the evidence of his work. She hadn’t noticed before. “I think I can probably lift something a bit heavier this year.”

“And what about you, little one?” Haymitch asks Prim, turning to face her.

Prim glances down at her lap before answering, her voice soft and hesitant.

“I don’t know. I don’t really have any skills.”

“Don’t be modest, Prim,” Katniss interjects. “You’re great at lots of things.”

 “Like what?” the young girl argues back. She feels very out of her depth in this place.

“Like...” Katniss pauses for a moment, thinking about the skills her sister possesses.  She’s protective of her sister, almost naively so. Prim couldn’t be closer to perfect in Katniss’s eyes, but she hasn’t come with a large repertoire of skills to draw from in the arena. She’s still so young and innocent.

 “You can milk a goat,” Katniss finally says.

Haymitch scoffs. “Great, she can squirt goat’s milk that them. That’ll have them running scared.”

Katniss turns to scowl at him. She knows that the sarcasm and veil of indifference is just his coping mechanism, but it leaves her feeling as if the fate of her sister rests solely on her shoulders. It’s a heavy burden to bear.

“Thank you, Haymitch,” she retorts angrily. “Your commentary wasn’t needed.”

“I’m just sayin’, relying on the boy to survive is only going to help her so far. She needs survival skills and fast.”

“I’m good at healing people,” Prim speaks up cautiously.

“Yes!” Katniss exclaims, turning away from her insolent mentor to her sister. Having a healer in her games would have certainly been beneficial. “You can heal people! That’s excellent Prim.”

She’s a little embarrassed that she forgot about this skill of Prim’s. The truth is she still sees Prim as the little girl who needs Katniss to protect her and provide for her. The thought of Prim fighting anyone is almost unimaginable.

“We can work with that,” Haymitch relents. “It’ll be an asset in a team and might encourage more allies to join you.”

“Who are our allies?” Peeta asks. He’s been mostly silent as they talk about Prim. He doesn’t know the girl very well and prefers to take the time to spend quiet moments of contemplation on the upcoming games.

“I’ve managed to pick up a few buddies around here over the years,” Haymitch explains to the young trio. “I can’t guarantee that the ones inside the arena will be sympathetic to your cause, but I’ll have a chat and see if I can broker some alliances and get the pair of you lower down on their kill lists.”

“Thanks, Haymitch,” Peeta replies sincerely. He’s seen the effects that mentoring have had on Haymitch. It must be easier to just shut it all out and take comfort in a bottle or twelve until the tributes’ canons have boomed and the obligation to mentor is over.  

Effie lets out a small and polite cough.

“Not doing it for you, kid,” Haymitch reminds him. He glances over at Katniss, she avoids his gaze. She knows this is all for her and by extension Prim. She feels like she doesn’t deserve it, but Prim does. The young girl deserves more than this world could ever offer her. But Katniss will settle for her sister’s life.

Effie clears her throat again, this time a little louder.

Haymitch continues to ignore her, as does Katniss. Peeta has taken an interest in his feet, but Prim looks towards her new friend with concern.

“So, we’ve got the healer and the lover,” summarises Haymitch with a satisfied nod. “I think we can sell that to the Capitol crowds.”

Effie clears her throat once more, a hint of annoyance coming through.

“Effie, can I get you something for that cough?” he says with mock concern. “A cough drop? A new throat? Somewhere else to sit?”

Effie gasps in annoyance at his response but ignores his insolence. She’s nothing if not professional and she has a job to do now.

“Haymitch,” Effie begins in that tone of voice she uses when he’s in trouble.

“Effie,” he responds mockingly, lifting his glass in the air and taking a well-earned gulp.

“Haymitch,” Effie begins again, trying not to let his antics get to her. “It’s eight oh one. According to the itinerary, you and Katniss should have started your preparation for the Sponsors and Mentors Banquet four minutes ago.”

It’s hard to resent her, Katniss thinks, when she’s putting such care and concern into her duties as their escort. But the banquet is news to her. She turns to Haymitch, wondering if he’s as surprised as her.

“Are we going to have the same argument again, Haymitch?” Effie asks wearily. “There’s an open bar.”

“Alright, alright, you’ve convinced me,” he relents, standing up and swiping the nearly empty bottle from the side table. By his tone, Katniss gets the feeling he never intended to put up a fight. She can’t say that she fancies a night away from Prim, mingling with the Capitol’s citizens. It won’t be so easy to convince her to go, she decides. As if sensing what she’s thinking, Effie turns to Katniss.

“It’s not optional, Katniss,” she says. “Part of your duty as a mentor is to attend functions such as this.”

“How come Haymitch got bribed to go then?” Katniss retorts.

“Haymitch is... stubborn,” Effie replies, walking over to Katniss and putting her hand on her back, guiding the young mentor towards the door. “It’s much easier to remind him of the benefits than emphasise his lack of a choice.”

“And what about me?” Katniss asks, wondering why she doesn’t get the same treatment.

Effie sighs.

“You will get dressed up in one of the Capitol’s finest gowns and join Haymitch and myself for a pleasant and civilised evening of eating, dancing and mingling with the other guests after which you may return back to your suite and spend the rest of the night as you please,” Effie spouts in the same tone she used to convince Haymitch.

Despite her lack of interested in the majority of the aforementioned activities, Katniss couldn’t deny that there were benefits to having an excuse to spend time with Haymitch in the Capitol. Whilst sharing their living quarters and having eyes all around, the opportunities for time together have been limited. Katniss suspects it will only get more difficult.

Before agreeing, Katniss turns back towards her two tributes. As if he can sense her hesitation, Peeta speaks up.

“Prim and I will be fine here. I’ll take care of her.”

“Go on, Katniss,” Prim adds. “You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

Katniss is still reluctant to leave her sister alone but relents. She supposes that it will be good for Prim and Peeta to spend some time together before they go into the arena. Things will be so much easier for Prim if she knows she can trust him. As Katniss walks out of the room, anxiousness settling in her gut, she wonders if maybe she needs to learn to trust Peeta a little better too.


End file.
